


The New Dance

by completelyhopeless



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Angst, Feels, Gen, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Pre-Canon, maybe i was better at them this time
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-26
Updated: 2014-11-26
Packaged: 2018-02-27 01:55:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 321
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2674559
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/completelyhopeless/pseuds/completelyhopeless
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Coulson sees a change in May after Bahrain.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The New Dance

**Author's Note:**

  * For [scribblemyname](https://archiveofourown.org/users/scribblemyname/gifts).



> For the prompt: _[any, any, she dances alone under the stars](http://comment-fic.livejournal.com/549892.html?thread=77710340#t77710340%22)_
> 
> Only I read it as "in the night/in the dark" and my mind went dark and angsty with it.
> 
> This does take a line from "Dancing without Suits," but I haven't made that connection concrete, so this doesn't necessarily follow that.

* * *

It's Bahrain.

He could see it everywhere on her now, a mark that can't be shed and won't be shed and has broken the woman he knew from who she was to something of legend. The others pass it around like a tale told around a fireside or over drinks, hushed whispers or exaggerated narrations. None of them have the facts, none of them think that it isn't right to be able to do what she did, that she shouldn't have done it—for herself; she shouldn't have done it to save herself because what she did took her _soul_ from her.

What she did was right. Necessary. Those were the words they told her when it was over, and sometimes he could agree with them and nod and repeat the party line.

Then he saw her in the shadows, in the darkness she'd trapped herself in, in the guilt and fear that she cannot shake, fear of becoming darker, of losing all she is, the final tattered fragments that she holds now, of being more the monster than the one she saw in the mirror.

He could tell her she wasn't one, but he couldn't make her believe it. He had tried. Every day since Bahrain, he'd looked for even a small way to reach her.

It hit him in the gut tonight. He can't stop from seeing it and understanding everything in a way that he didn't want. He'd found her outside, moving through the night, and he cursed the day he told her that the way she fought was like a dance because he knew that Bahrain had corrupted that for her. When she danced now, she saw violence and blood and death.

So she danced alone in the dark.

He missed the woman who wouldn't dance with a man in a suit.

This one won't dance with anyone at all.

She didn't trust herself. She didn't dare.

**Author's Note:**

> And I went over the 300 word thing, but I didn't notice that was the theme, just loved the prompt and didn't want to change any of it, so it's staying over 300. I'm unrepentant. Word counts are meant to be broken.


End file.
